


Angelic Truths

by madddog0



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Clary Fray-centric, Clary Rune Powers, F/M, Gen, Jace/Clary Relationship, Multi, Novella, POV Clary Fray, POV Jace Wayland, POV Simon Lewis, Post-Canon, Protective Jace Wayland, Shadowhunter Simon Lewis, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2019-10-11 01:48:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17437580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madddog0/pseuds/madddog0
Summary: A story following 'City of Heavenly Fire,' mainly focusing on Clary and Jace's relationship. **Note: I have only read the Mortal Instruments Series; I have not read any other books in the Shadowhunter Chronicles. Sorry for any deviations from TID and TDA canon!**In a pseudo-alternate reality, world-building novella, Clary and Jace are living happily in New York after the Dark War. Along with Isabelle, Simon, Alec, and Magnus, they have been tasked to head up recruiting in New York to find more Shadowhunters.But when a new and mysterious rune suddenly appears on Simon, the crew scrambles to figure out what it means. No one knows if its powers are safe for Simon to use.Clary's rune ability has fully developed, and she discovers another rune that is ground-breaking for the Clave.





	1. Perfect Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first dabble into writing fan fiction - I'd love to hear your thoughts and comments on my work!:)

Clary stared at herself in the mirror, reflecting on the past four years of her life. It was almost impossible to remember the time before she knew of the Shadow World. Before she knew Jace. The last few months of 2007 seemed to be a blur, but oddly every detail remained crisp and defined in her minds eye. She remembered killing her very first demon—the Ravener in her mother’s loft—and when she first kissed Jace. She recalled seeing the glass towers of Alicante for the first time, discovering her immense Rune ability, the faerie queen's quick cunning, the Dark War… she remembered Sebastian.

With a quick shake of her head, Clary snapped back to the present, not allowing herself to recall more memories of her brother. 

'Enough,' she told herself. 'No need to torture yourself quite so early in the day.'

As a distraction, she stared at herself in the mirror, looking through her artist’s eye. She noted the most drastic changes to her body. There were runes and scars scrawled all over her leg and arms, neck and torso in a matrix of crisscrossing lines. Each one telling a story uniquely their own. Every mark made with a purpose. And then she noticed more subtle changes, too—how her arms and shoulders carried what Jace called “ass-kicking” muscle definition, how her bright orange curls seemed tamer these days, how she had actual womanly curves. Clary stared appreciatively at these changes, relishing the inward curve of her waist and the smooth roundness of her hips. Even in sleep shorts and a sports bra, Clary had never felt more like a woman. And even despite the new-found confidence in herself, she knew that no matter what Jace still found her as blindingly beautiful as the first time her saw her. And her heart swelled with more happiness than she could take.

Moving away from the mirror and blinking away the tears of happiness that had crept up on her, Clary glanced around her room. In the corner by the window sat Clary’s drawing desk. When she first moved into her uptown loft, she had hardly any furniture, and Luke was kind enough to make her a drawing desk for her birthday. He had taken up wood-working at his country house, and to Clary’s surprise was quite talented.

She loved her desk. While drawing, she often found herself becoming distracted by the high level of craftsmanship that Luke had developed. She wondered how much time and love he had put into creating this masterpiece. And, as a final touch, her mother had contributed to the desk, too. Jocelyn had painted beautifully colored runes on the four corners of the desk. Runes speaking of concentration and creation, life and energy.

On the adjacent wall, she saw sitting atop her dresser were framed pictures of the people she loved most in the world. A moment of her and Jace sitting on the institute steps, Clary looking over his shoulder, Jace genuinely smiling. Her and Simon hugging when they were no older than seven, facing the camera cheek-to-cheek, smiling gap-toothed smiles. Her mother and Luke on their wedding day, Clary and Jace on either side of the happy couple. A snapshot of Izzy and Simon, Alec and Magnus, Clary and Jace after playing a rather dirty game of kickball, all their bodies covered in dirt and grass stains from the excessive illegal tackling. Clary was nearly overwhelmed by how much her life—and her heart—had grown the past four years, and she couldn’t remember the last time she felt happier.

Shifting her gaze again, trying to blink away more tears, Clary looked across the room at her bed, a wood-carved trunk at the foot of it—another gift from Luke. On top of her bed lay Jace, white sheets rumpled, an arm thrown hap-hazardously across his face. His golden-blonde hair splayed around his head in need of a haircut. Clary threw on her bath robe (using the edges of her sleeves to dab away the rest of the tears) and crossed the room to sit gently on the bed’s edge. Jace stirred slightly and Clary lightly placed a hand over his heart, his body heat emanating from his bare chest, up through her arm, and into her heart. The slow and steady pulse under her hand was comforting and more familiar than her own heartbeat.

“Jace. Jace, it’s time to wake up,” Clary whispered. She felt his heartbeat quicken slightly as he started to gain consciousness. “Jace, wake up.”

“Fivemoeminutes,” Jace mumbled into his arm.

Clary lightly laughed and bent down to kiss him on his forehead, moving his arm from his face in the process. “Sorry, no can do. We have to meet my mom and Luke for breakfast, remember?”

At this, Jace opened one eye to a slit. His golden eye stared at her, grogginess still clinging to him. “Are you sure we have to go?” Jace inquired half-heartedly, already knowing the answer. Before Clary could say anything in reply, he opened both his eyes lazily and answered himself. “I know, I know, we have to. Saturday morning family breakfasts, yada, yada, yada.”

Clary paused for a moment, teasing, “Well, Mr. Herondale, what would you rather be doing instead?” She knew that right now probably wasn’t the right time to provoke Jace, but her over-whelming happiness from the morning won over her sense of duty to visit with her mother and Luke for breakfast.

Jace, clearly catching her drift, immediately propped himself up on his elbows. In response to her question, he reached a hand up to her and brought her lips to his, parting them in a familiar way. Warm, slow, and loving. He pulled away and drew in a deep breath. “I’d rather stay in bed with you all day. Screw breakfast, screw our double date with Simon and Izzy…” He drifted off and chuckled low under his breath. “But there is someone I’d actually like to screw.”

Clary gasped in mock-horror. “I knew it! You have been having an affair with Raphael!” Jace’s face was blank, un-readable. Clary smiled to herself, thinking she had won this round of wits due to his grogginess. But before she could even blink, she was on her back, head on a pillow, shock knocking the breath out of her. Jace pinned her, one hand bracing himself on the outside of her shoulder, the other hand closed around both of her wrists, just above her head. 

“Jace!” Clary breathed, more in surprise than anything else. He released one hand, but continued grasping her right hand, a coy smile playing at the edges of his lips.

“You’re right. I definitely forgot to mention how in love I am with Raphael,” Jace’s voice dripped sarcasm. He spoke the words against her collarbone, kissing along it until he reached her neck. “So, I guess now you know…” He kissed slowly up her neck, pausing at her jaw line. “Does that mean we can ask the bloodsucker for a ménage à trois?” He kissed her lightly along her jaw, ignoring Clary who was shaking with laughter, because he was playing along.

“Of course, darling,” Clary replied. “If it makes you happy.” She felt him smile against her cheek as she spoke, still kissing her. If there was one pet name Jace couldn’t stand, it was ‘darling.’ They both tended to stay away from over-the-top pet names, unlike Simon and Izzy who often called the other ‘baby,’ ‘sweet cheeks,’ and even worse ‘shnookums.’

“Oh, it would,” Jace answered, the sarcasm practically dripping from every syllable. He kissed along her cheek bone, barely controlling the smile spreading his face.

In reply, Clary turned her head to kiss him. All slowness and silliness gone; now they were all fire and passion. Twisting her free hand in his hair, she pulled him closer to her, so no space separated their bodies. Clary felt herself start to succumb to the desire that was Jace, and she had to force herself to hit the brakes. “Wait, wait,” she cautioned before she passed the point of no return. “We should go to breakfast today.” Jace pulled away slightly and started to mock-scowl down at her.

“But what about Raphael?” Jace teased, though the look in his eyes told Clary just how much he wanted her—no, needed her—too.

“I guess he’ll have to wait,” Clary sighed as she removed her other wrist from his hand and lightly pushed Jace off her. “I just have this feeling that we should be there today, you know? Plus, I definitely don’t want my mom freaking out when she realizes you stayed with me last night instead of going home to the Institute. You know… walk of shame clothes are something my mom can smell from a mile away.” Clary kissed Jace lightly on the cheek.

Jace shuddered. “You’re right… I definitely don’t want the wrath of Jocelyn on me today.” He drew himself up, stretched with his hands over his head, and rolled out of bed. “I’ll run home to change and shower then. See you at nine?” Clary sat on the edge of the bed and shook her head in conformation. She watched him pull on his jeans and T-shirt from the night before. Even to this day, the beauty and gracefulness of Jace’s body stunned her. She loved watching him move, transfixed by how his muscles extended under his skin, how his permanent runes and scars stretched as he twisted and turned. He noticed her watching him, studying his movements, and shot her a quick grin. She noticed the chip in his tooth, one of her favorite parts of Jace’s smile. He reached down to the floor, as if picking up something off the ground. He presented her with an empty hand. “Here, I think you dropped you jaw, Morgenstern.”

Clary smacked his hand out of the way playfully and abruptly stood up to kiss him. She felt him tense in surprise, then relax into her body as she kissed him, hard. He held her gently, though, and she pulled away from him after a few moments. “I love you,” Clary whispered.

“You’re my everything,” Jace responded. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours as Taki’s.”


	2. Rune and Nail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clary and Jace meet up with Jocelyn and Luke for breakfast after their morning together. Clary finds out some big news that her parents have been waiting to tell her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading:) If you have any comments or suggestions, I'd love to hear them!

Jace rounded the corner to the street Taki’s was located. His hands in his pockets to stave off the chill of late autumn, he quickened his pace until he reached the diner’s entrance. Inside, Clary and her family sat in a booth by the window. The flaming red of Jocelyn and Clary’s combined curly hair gave the illusion of fire dancing inside the restaurant. Jace reflected on how alike Clary and her mother were. Both women not only looked physically similar, but the way they held their shoulders, their chins proud and strong, the happiness that emanated from their eyes… it was all uncannily identical. Upon noticing his entrance, Clary’s face split into a grin. Jocelyn’s did not.

“Jace!” she called, as if she hadn’t seen him in ages. He smiled to himself, remembering the events from the night before and waking up to Clary’s face over his, knowing that Jocelyn was none the wiser. He walked forward and slid into the booth next to Clary, kissing her lightly on the cheek.

“Jocelyn, Luke,” Jace greeted as he leaned forward to grasp Luke’s outstretched hand. “It’s good to see you again. How’s Cleo?” Jace wasn’t quite fond of tiny, yippy dogs, but ever since Jocelyn had rescued their stray toy poodle, he was a changed man.

“Oh, she’s spoiled as ever,” Jocelyn joked, glancing over at Luke just in time to see the hint of annoyance that flashed through his jaw line.

The rest of the table laughed, knowing that her reply was true. Cleo was a tiny ball of energy that loved to bark at new people until they picked her up and pet behind her ears. Jace recalled that once Clary moved out of Luke’s house a couple years ago, Jocelyn became more visibly depressed not to have her daughter staying with her anymore. She assayed this by springing the adoption of Cleo on Luke one sunny morning in July.

Jace remembered that day well, as it was a Saturday that Clary had been staying with her parents. He had visited for the day and found it odd that when he arrived early in the morning, Jocelyn had not been home. Jocelyn was normally the first one out of bed, painting in the early morning light, or enjoying a cup of coffee on the front porch. When Jace couldn’t find her anywhere, he helped himself to a cup of coffee, and poured one for Clary, too. He wandered up to Clary’s room to find her still asleep. He set down the coffee mugs on her bedside table soundlessly and appreciated Clary’s peacefulness before he woke her softly. Her bright, green eyes fluttered open in surprise. She flung herself into his arms with a sigh, melting into him in relief.

“Jace, what are you doing here?” Clary mumbled into his ear, happiness spread through Jace’s body, numbing his other senses.

“I missed you. Plus, your mother seems to be MIA, so I figured I could sneak up here without too many negative repercussions,” Jace rationalized while stroking Clary’s morning-roused hair.

“Oh… I wonder where she went off to so early,” Clary mused as she started waking up. Jace loved this time of morning when Clary wasn’t fully awake. He loved being able to hold her close while she slowly became oriented to where she was; he loved knowing that he was a part of her first morning thoughts. “What time is it anyway?” Clary inquired as she pulled away from their embrace.

“Eight,” Jace whispered, reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind Clary’s ear.

“Wait… is that coffee I smell?” Clary asked Jace, eyes fully bright now. Jace leaned over and grabbed their mugs of coffee off the nightstand. Clary smiled in appreciation as she took a sip. “Black with sugar. You remembered,” Clary grinned.

“Of course, I remember how you like your coffee.” Jace put a hand to his heart, as if her statement had wounded him.

“I should get ready.” Clary disregarded his mock-hurt with a wave of her hand. “I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit.”

Jace kissed Clary on the cheek and excused himself from her room. He waited downstairs for Clary, sitting down at Luke’s piano in the living room. He started to softly play a tune from memory. After a few minutes, Luke entered the room, a cup of coffee in one hand and a book clenched under his other arm.

“Jace! I didn’t know you were here.”

“I let myself in earlier… I didn’t want to wake any of you,” Jace explained.

“Well, it’s good to see you,” Luke said cheerily, propping his feet up on the coffee table as he began to open his book. “Hey, have you seen Jocelyn this morning? I can’t seem to find her anywhere,” Luke inquired.

“Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing,” Jace responded.

Luke’s eyebrows creased, but he didn’t seem too concerned about his wife. Jace shrugged and returned to playing. Clary joined them a while later, showered, her hair still damp, smelling like her favorite body wash. Jace flashed her a small smile before starting to play one of Clary’s favorite tunes. She sat down on the couch next to Luke, a fresh cup of coffee in her hands. She leaned her head against Luke’s shoulder and started to read along with him. “What are you reading today?” Clary inquired.

Before Luke could answer, they heard the front door open, and Jocelyn called out for Luke to help her with something. With a sigh, Luke put his mug of coffee and book down on the table and headed to the front door. Jace stopped playing the piano, eyes curious, staring back at Clary’s. She looked at Jace and raised her eyebrows as if to say I wonder what’s going on.

Luke’s voice filled the living room. “A DOG?” his voice boomed. “There’s already a dog who lives under this roof! We don’t need another!” Jace started to smile at Luke’s retort, but immediately stopped when he saw Clary’s look of mingled disapproval and shock of hearing Luke so upset. He donned an air of seriousness, so as not to provoke Clary further, although finding the situation rather humorous. He wondered if werewolves had problems cohabitating with dogs.

A moment later, a brown fluff-ball came bounding through the room. Little yips and barks emanated from the blur of fur, and Jocelyn came careening into the room, orange hair tied up in a knot. She scooped the dog into her arms and smiled down at the panting mop of curls.

“Clary, Jace, this is Cleo,” Jocelyn held out the dog as if she were a baby, curled into Jocelyn’s right arm. As she did so, a trickle of pee fell to the floor. Luke walked in at this exact moment, and Jace could even now remember the exact shade of scarlet his face had turned… 

Jace realized he had drifted off in his memories while everyone laughed at their table in Taki’s. Kaelie appeared and took their drink orders, her eyes lingering on Jace a moment too long. Jace hardly seemed to notice, flipping over his menu to peruse their breakfast items, still smiling from the memory of that morning.

“I take it Kaelie still has a thing for you, huh?” Clary teased as she lightly dug her elbow into Jace’s ribs.

“I can’t help it that I’m still so charming, even in my old age,” Jace joked back. Jace saw Clary smile at his joke, and Jocelyn roll her eyes in response. Jace knew that, even to this day, Jocelyn would never fully warm up to him. She still saw too much of Valentine.

“Well, I for one, am glad you two made it this morning,” said Luke changing the subject. “Your mother and I wanted to tell you some news, and we wanted you both to be here today.” Luke’s smile widened as he turned his head to look down at Jocelyn, as if to asking for permission to divulge the good news. With an encouraging smile, Jocelyn squeezed Luke’s hand as if to say, ‘Go on.’

“Really, this was all Jocelyn’s idea, she’s been the brains behind the operation,” Luke started out.

“Well, not all my idea…” Jocelyn interjected. “You’re the one who started this whole thing!” The two smiled at each other, genuine excitement passing between them.

“What thing are you talking about?” Clary sounded impatient. “What’s going on?” She looked quizzically from one parent to the other.

But at that moment Kaelie came back, plopping four coffees on the table. She took their orders and flounced away, winking in Jace’s direction. He pretended like he didn’t see it. Instead, he put his hands around the coffee mug to thaw his chilled fingers.

Luke began to beam, excitement clear on his face. “It turns out that the woodworking I’ve been doing in my spare time has gathered a lot of attention in the Shadowhunting community. And it’s all thanks to your mother, really. They’ve been so popular because of her rune additions to them. And, can you imagine… Shadowhunters willingly buying a werewolf’s furniture? Well, your mother and I have received more requests than we can handle, and,” he paused, gauging Clary’s emotions before continuing, “after talking it over, we’ve decided to open a business. We’re calling it ‘Rune and Nail.’ But… it means that your mother and I are moving to Alicante, to really be successful, to properly fill all the requests we’ve received. Do this full-time, you know?”

Jace, while happy for Jocelyn and Luke, looked to Clary and absentmindedly took her hand. He knew that having her mother close was something she needed, like how she needed him. But to his surprise, Clary was beaming, a wide smile stretched across her face.

“That’s great news!” She was looking from her mother to Luke, and back again. Suddenly, her expression faltered, and Jace gripped her hand a little tighter. “But, Mom. Are you sure you’re ready to move back to Idris? I mean…” she trailed off. Everyone understood what she was saying.

With a gentle smile, Jocelyn nodded. “I’m ready,” she sounded more confident than Clary looked. “Enough time has passed, and plus, the Clave really has evolved since I fled Alicante all those years ago. With Downworlders having a voice, things have really started to take a turn for the better.” Jocelyn reached out her hand and patted Clary’s free hand where it rested on the table top. Clary laced her fingers through her mother’s.

“As long as you’re sure.” She sounded more confident, her face gaining its initial excitement back.  
“Mom, Luke, this really is great news!”

“Congratulations,” Jace chimed in, offering his hand to shake Luke’s for a second time that morning. The men gripped each other’s hands firmly, Jace conveying his happiness for Luke in their handshake. Jace considered asking ‘When do you leave?’ but was inadvertently interrupted by Clary, the words from her mouth travelling a mile a minute.

“Well, when do you leave? What are you doing with Cleo? Oh, what about the book shop? And the house? But wait, Luke, have you told Mia yet? She’s going to miss having you around! Shoot, I’m going to miss you guys so much!”

Luke cut her off, putting both his hands up, chuckling to himself. “Whoa, Clary, one question at a time! We’re leaving in two weeks, just in time for the holiday season. The Clave has already approved me to live in Alicante with your mother, so all that’s left now is to start packing.”

Kaelie was back now, plates in her hands, seeming to balance them all with perfect ease. Jace hardly paid attention to her. His eyes were on Clary as he watched her emotions build. It seemed happiness for her parents radiated from her, contagious to those around her. As Kaelie set their meals down, Jace leaned over and pecked Clary on the cheek. He whispered to her “I love you.”

She responded by squeezing his hand, diving into her coconut pancakes, and asking more streams of questions around rather unladylike large mouthfuls. Jace smiled inwardly, realizing how much Clary had grown since living on her own. He wondered, not for the first time, if he had asked Jocelyn and Luke's permission to marry Clary, what Jocelyn's answer would be...


	3. Fashion Emergencies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabelle and Clary prepare for a double date with Simon and Jace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Drop a note below with any feedback you may have:) I'd love to hear it.

Clary lounged across Isabelle’s bed in the Institute, laying on her stomach and her feet dangled off the edge. Isabelle was riffling through her seemingly-endless closet. Even though Isabelle had moved out a while ago to live with Simon, she still kept a decent stock of clothes, makeup, and glitter here—just in case. Clary smiled to herself, loving how Izzy was always prepared for any fashion emergency. 

One time, Clary recalled, Jace had asked her on a date for their first-year anniversary, instructing her to ‘wear something nice, no jeans.’ In passing, Clary had mentioned she could use a little help deciding on an outfit to Isabelle. Which, unfortunately for Izzy, turned into one of her biggest fashion emergencies of 2008.

Clary remembered sifting through Izzy’s closet lazily, occasionally pulling out a dress or two that caught her eye, showing them to Isabelle. But Izzy turned down every option, and eventually, none-too-kindly pushed Clary aside to tear apart her own closet, fanatically looking for something. Dresses and skirts flew everywhere, covering Izzy’s already-cluttered floor in a layer of clothes.

Clary laughed, “Izzy, what’s wrong? It’s just a date, I’ll be fine in the blue—” but she was cut off by Isabelle throwing a shoe at her. “Ow! What was that for?” Clary protested, rubbing her shin where the shoe hit.

“Oh, where is it? Where is it? By the Angel… I swear, if I find Alec did something…” Isabelle’s voice trailed off, leaving Clary confused.

“Izzy, what’s wrong?” Clary asked, reaching out to put a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“You wait here!” Isabelle snapped, brushing away Clary’s concern and heading toward the door. “I’ll be right back, just, stay here! We have a serious emergency.” And with that, Isabelle shoved open the door and sprinted down the hall.

With a shrug, Clary sat down on the bed, pulling out a small notebook and pencil she kept in her hoodie pocket for when she got bored. After a short while and a few sketches later, Isabelle returned looking crest-fallen. After heaving a large sigh, she said, “Jace confiscated it.”

“Jace confiscated what?” Clary asked more confused than ever.

“After your mom’s wedding, I got to thinking… You and Jace are the most solid couple I’ve ever known, and I just, really, really, wanted to do something nice for you two. So, I went out and bought you a special gown, you know, to wear for your one-year anniversary date. I knew Jace would plan something special… and it was this perfect silver gown, tea-length, really something special.”

Clary was oddly touched. “Izzy, that’s such a sweet thing to do for me. For us, me and Jace.”

“Yeah, well, Alec just told me that he stole it from my closet on Jace’s orders. The two of them hid it from me!” Isabelle’s voice hardened as she spoke, clearly gathering her anger toward Jace. “Apparently, Jace told Alec what he was planning. Alec told Jace about the dress, and Jace told Alec it was ‘too much’ and that you’d feel ‘out of place wearing it.’ Bah!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “What a load of crap. There’s no such thing as being over-dressed!”

Clary pat the bed beside her, inviting the pacing girl to sit beside her on the bed. “Even if the dress isn’t here, I’m still appreciative of the gesture.”

Isabelle gave a half-hearted smile. “I’ve been planning your outfit and makeup for weeks… Oh, I’m going to kill your boyfriend,” Isabelle threatened.

At Clary’s face of alarm, Isabelle gave a small laugh. “You know I’m exaggerating. I won’t kill Jace. He’s my brother.”

With a definitive flip of her long hair, she had grabbed Clary by the wrists. “Now, common! This may be my biggest fashion emergency this year, and we only have an hour until your date starts! An hour! Oh, by the Angel, I will pay Jace back for this one! You mark my words, Clarissa. But, first, we must find you a suitable replacement dress, stat!”

Luckily, Clary and Isabelle’s double date tonight would pose no such fashion emergency. Clary relaxed on the bed, watching as Isabelle chose the perfect dress for herself—a sapphire blue strapless dress with a deep neckline. Clary wondered how the dress would even stay up, with a neckline that low. Clary new that Isabelle had her ways, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out how Izzy’s bust would be contained.

Without any preamble, Isabell tore some clothes off their hangers and threw a black mess at Clary. “Go try these on. I need to see how that skirt fits you,” Isabelle instructed, pointing toward her bathroom door.

With a shrug, Clary went into the bathroom. She pulled up the black A-line skirt where it synched tight just above her navel. The skirt was a little too short on her, revealing much more of her upper-thigh than she was normally comfortable with. The other article of clothing seemed to be a mess of open black cloth and strings, with no conceivable way to wear it. Clary re-emerged into the bedroom in her black lacy bra and skirt, holding up the dangling (she guessed it was a shirt?) piece of fabric in her right hand.

“Uh, Izz? I think you gave me an old shirt a demon shredded or something. I can’t wear this,” Clary said while gesturing with her right hand.

Isabelle heaved a heavy sigh, shaking her head at Clary. “It’s a shirt! Gosh, you know nothing about fashion. Here,” Isabelle took the complicated mess of a shirt from Clary and held one end up.

“Put your arm through here… And your other one here,” Isabelle instructed.

Clary looked down at herself as Isabelle helped her into the shirt. She now had two long, black sleeves, strings hanging down from the excess cloth, the shirt open revealing her bra.

“I still don’t get it, Izzy,” Clary confessed, wondering if she should just wear her jeans and sweater from earlier. She at least knew how to put on those clothes.

“Wait, wait, I’m not finished yet. Now, just… let me… tie up… this top… There! Much better.” Isabelle beamed and spun Clary around to face the mirror.

Isabelle had tied up the shirt, giving it a deep V that revealed just a hint of her lacy black bra, and the cleavage Clary had more recently developed. Her friend had tucked in and secured the ends tight, creating a pseudo-crop top that revealed a thin strip of Clary’s torso, small hints of runes and scars just barely visible where her white skin contrasted with the all-black outfit. Clary stared in bewilderment as she saw her midriff so blatantly on display for the world to see. This was definitely not her style, but she was surprised how much she liked the clothes and how they fit her body.

Isabelle then threw a pair of sheer black tights and mid-calf boots at Clary, indicating she should put them on. With no shame, Isabelle stripped down to her underwear in front of Clary. Clary saw Isabelle had satin and lace lingerie on before she hurriedly averted her eyes. At Clary’s chagrin, Isabelle laughed. A genuine laugh that caused Clary to whip her head up in surprise.

“What? What is it?” Clary asked, clearly not understanding whatever Isabelle found so funny.

“Clary, we’ve been friends for how long now? And you’re still embarrassed to see me in my underwear?” Isabelle chuckled as she folded her arms across her chest.

Clary retorted, gesturing to Isabelle’s bright red lace-and-silk ‘underwear.’ “Well, that’s more or less not considered underwear… that’s something Simon would appreciate,” Clary finished awkwardly. She tried hard to not think too much about Izzy and Simon’s sex life.

Izzy shook her head, still amused. “Clary, when will you realize that lingerie is underwear. Plus, it’s more for me than it is for Simon. I enjoy wearing it, you know? It makes me feel even more sexy than I obviously already am,” Isabelle winked as he picked up her dress from the floor and wriggled into it.

Clary shook her head. She didn’t think she’d ever feel fully comfortable in lingerie getups as bold as the one Izzy was wearing tonight. The raciest her lingerie got with Jace was maybe a silky camisole and matching underwear set. Or a deep green bra that he really seemed to like. Most of the time, Clary was comfortable in sleep shorts and a tank top, and she hadn’t ever heard Jace complaining about that when they got to share a bed.

Trying to shake her thoughts of lingerie, she bent over to pull on the tights and lace up her shoes. With the tights enhancing the curves of her legs elegantly, and the thick-soled black leather boots looking like they could pack a powerful kick, the outfit was surprisingly pleasing. Clary’s end result was fairly bad-ass, a little feminine, and all-together rather comfortable. With a start, Clary had a flash back to the last time Isabelle had dressed her up in all-black. The night of Magnus’ party for Chairman Meow. The night Simon was turned into a rat.

“Thanks, Isabelle, I really do love it,” Clary gushed, smoothing her hands down the soft cotton of the skirt flaring around her hips. Isabelle had squeezed into her dress and a pair of suede, nude boots hung loosely in her hands.

“Don’t mention it. Now, sit,” Izzy commanded, dropping her boots next to her bed while pointing to the pink pouf that sat in front of the vanity mirror. There were already glitter pots and makeup pallets open all over the vanity. Clary slowly walked across the room to sit on the chair, knowing the excessive amounts of makeup that were about to be applied to her usually clean face. But she knew that Isabelle’s work was only halfway finished, and she would never let Clary leave her room until at least one coating of glitter had been applied to her cleavage.

Clary gave a small sigh and said, “Okay, I’m ready. Do your worst.”


	4. Thigh Sheaths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clary, Jace, Isabelle, and Simon embark on the start of their double date in the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading:)  
> Sorry it took me so long to post another chapter, but I hope you all like it! The story is definitely starting to pick up after this chapter... Let me know if there's anything you'd like to see in the future!

An hour later, Isabelle and Clary emerged from the room heading down to meet the boys by the elevator. Isabelle had left Clary’s hair down, parted deeply on one side, and, despite Clary’s protesting, had coated her lips with a deep maroon lipstick. Clary had tucked a small dagger and her stele into her boot and wore Isabelle’s electrum rings on her right hand. 

‘I feel so naked going out in public without any sort of weapon nowadays,’ Clary thought to herself, looking down at the rings on her fingers while reflecting on how normal this had become in her new life. 

Looking over at Isabelle, Clary couldn’t help but notice that while she herself was all dark, Isabelle was vibrant. Her sapphire blue dress reflected the light, drawing the attention to her plunging neckline where her ruby pendent sat elegantly between her breasts. She had drawn up her long, dark hair in a complicated and intricate ponytail, bright eyeshadow and dazzling red lips emphasizing the lines and shape of her face. She wore her electrum whip around her right wrist, and, Clary knew, had two daggers and a stele in thigh sheaths on both her upper thighs. Clary smiled to herself, knowing that, even though she personally never left home without a dagger these days, she would never be a thigh sheath kind of woman.

Turning the corner, Clary ran face-first into Simon who looked just as shocked as she did. “Oof! Clary,” he exclaimed, taking a couple steps back. “I was just on my way up to hurry you two along. What did you have to do that took a literal eternity to accomplish? Summon the Greater Demon of Fashion and Glitter?” 

Simon nudged Clary in a playful manner. Before Clary had a chance to respond with her witty retort, Simon registered what Clary was wearing. “Woah, Clary, badass much?” he teased as he saw her outfit. He looked past her to Isabelle, his eyes softening as he took her in.

“Baby!” Isabelle exclaimed, throwing herself into Simon’s arms. “I’ll have you know, what took so long was your best friend Clary. She was running away from me while I was trying to put lipstick on her! I swear, I’ve never seen someone with such an aversion to the stuff,” Isabelle pouted, giving Simon a big kiss, smudging her own lipstick slightly.

Clary rolled her eyes making sure Izzy saw her, and said “I don’t know, I mean, I think Jace might actually fight you if you ever tried to put lipstick on him.”

Isabelle started laughing at that. Clary imagined Isabelle running around the room trying to corner Jace with a tube of lipstick in her hand. A Jace with bright red lipstick amused Clary so much that she started laughing with her as they made their way down to the entryway.

They found Jace lounging on the settee while cleaning his nails with his stele, a bad habit he couldn’t seem to break. Looking up as they approached, Jace’s eyes slid lazily past Simon and Izzy who were holding hands. They rested on Clary and a blithe smile played around the edges of his lips.  
Clary noticed he looked striking in a mostly-black ensemble. He wore fitted, black jeans, a black leather jacket over them. His jacket was open which revealed a crisp, white shirt unbuttoned slightly at the top. Clary could see faint lines of his permanent runes through his shirt, and the scar Glorious had left across his heart. His muscles filled out the jacket in an attractive manner. And Clary also noticed he had gotten his hair cut since she had seen him this morning at Taki’s. It was styled back from his face in a messy swoop. He looked strikingly beautiful, the black jacket and jeans contrasting well with his golden hair and eyes. Clary’s heat skipped a beat, wondering what he thought of her in her short skirt, showing too much of her cleavage and midriff.

“Oh, Gawd, just, go get a room you two,” Isabelle exclaimed, exasperated. She looked from Jace to Clary as she saw their clear expressions of longing. Isabelle had seen enough of the two of them gawking at each other over the past four years to know that they could look like that at each other for far too long.

Jace picked himself up off the settee, putting his stele in his pocket. He gave Izzy a teasing smile and then drew Clary close to him. He gave her a deep kiss that sent butterflies flying in her stomach. The room, Simon, Isabelle, all of it seemed to melt away—all of it except Jace. His lips were soft against hers. She started to feel intoxicated from the scent of him, more familiar than anything else in the world. She started to wind her arms around his neck while pressing her body firmly against his, but he drew away. Clary saw his eyes were full of raw desire. But his teasing smile returned after a moment, and he shifted his gaze back to Isabelle.

“Don’t mind if we do. Clary shouldn’t be allowed out in pubic like this, anyway. She’s way too attractive for her own good.”

Izzy punched him on the arm, rather hard. “Like hell you will! I spent too long creating that masterpiece, and besides, you’ll only ruin her lipstick! Common, I don’t want to be late for our reservation.” She grabbed two coats off the wall handing one to Clary, then punched the button to call the elevator. Simon slid an arm around Isabelle’s waist, leaning over to whisper something in her ear.

Clary still felt a little dizzy from Jace’s kiss. Before she could slide into her coat, Jace wound his arm around her, fingers playing along the exposed bare skin on her midriff. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. 

“You look stunning.” Clary shivered from his breath on her exposed bit of neck. “You know, this oddly reminds me an of that night Simon got turned into a rat,” Jace joked.

Clary smiled. “I was thinking the same thing! My outfit, Simon and Izzy together, declining a thigh sheath for my dagger—again,” she responded, noticing amusement growing in Jace’s eyes.

“Hey, thigh sheaths are dead useful! Don’t knock them until you try them!” Isabelle interjected, clearly having overhead Clary.

“Plus, they’re kind of sexy in that bad-girl-in-the-sheets kind of way,” Simon interjected, his hand resting on Isabelle’s hip.

“Ach, Simon, totally TMI!” Clary shut her eyes, not wanting to picture anything more.

She heard Jace laugh at her as the elevator arrived, and they all stepped in. His fingers lingered on her midriff as long as possible. He reluctantly helped her into her coat, which she was very thankful to have once they reached the cold streets of Manhattan.

Simon hailed a cab and directed the driver to a swanky, upscale restaurant that Izzy insisted they try. She had overheard a couple of warlocks discussing it in Taki’s, and since then, she had demanded the two couples plan a double date. While Clary didn’t normally mind hanging out with Simon and Izzy, she wasn’t really the kind of girl who enjoyed Isabelle-style dates. Izzy loved grand, exciting dates, while Clary would rather have a small, secluded picnic in the Institute greenhouse, or a slow stroll in the park.

When the cabbie pulled up outside the restaurant, Clary couldn’t help but feel a small knot of anxiety creep into her stomach. She wasn’t quite sure why. But Izzy gave a small squeal of excitement, turning her head so her long pony tail hit Clary in the face. The storefront doors were framed by floor-to-ceiling windows, warm candle light spilling from the interior onto the chilly November sidewalk.

To calm her anxiety, Clary pictured painting the storefront, all soft light and sharp angles, a study in contrast. She imagined painting the soft light falling on the sidewalk with light brush strokes. Breaking her from her evaluation, Isabelle tugged on a lock of Clary’s hair. 

“Common, this place is going to be so great!” Isabelle slid out of the cab in one graceful movement.

Simon paid the driver with a, “Thanks!” and hurried to meet Isabelle by the restaurant doors.

Jace leaned over to Clary before she got out of the cab and said, “think she could be any more over the top with this whole thing?”

Clary pointedly rolled her eyes with Jace in agreement, but said, “I’m just happy she’s happy. Plus, once we survive tonight, we won’t be obliged to another double date until after the holidays.” This thought did seem to cheer Jace slightly as they got out of the taxi and entered the restaurant.


	5. Pandemonium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon, Isabelle, Clary and Jace take their double date to the infamous night club, Pandemonium. Something interrupts their night of fun, though, leaving the Shadowhunters scrambling to ready themselves for a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has been reading and liking my work! I hope you all are enjoying the story.
> 
> If you have any feedback or suggestions, please leave a comment:)

“Well, how was I supposed to know that he would be so snooty,” Isabelle protested as Jace complained about the maître d’ again.

The restaurant had turned out the be a major flop. They were easily the youngest patrons in the restaurant, and the maître d’ made it clear just how unwelcome they were. In his words, the group in their ‘club wear,’ would be bringing with them their ‘obvious shenanigans.’ Clary wondered if the warlocks Isabelle overhead discussing the restaurant in Taki’s had been sarcastic, because the group definitely did not enjoy their experience in the slightest.

“Can we just drop it?” Clary insisted, right as Jace opened his mouth in retort. “It’s really not worth arguing over. And besides,” she continued, looking over at Simon, “we got to see Simon spill his spaghetti all over the guy’s shoes.”

This got a laugh out of everyone as they remembered Simon “accidentally” dropping his plate of spaghetti on the maître d’. He had made one particularly nasty remark about Isabelle’s plunging neckline, and so Simon retaliated by ruining his perfectly polished leather shoes.

“You know, all his talk of ‘club wear’ got me thinking…” Isabelle began, her eyes lighting up again.

“Uh oh,” Jace whispered into Clary’s ear, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Oh, shut up!” Isabelle hit Jace lightly on the shoulder. “No, I was thinking, clubbing might be fun for a change of pace tonight. To actually go dancing, you know, at Pandemonium? Maia texted me earlier today and said that Bat has a great set planned for tonight!”

“Pandemonium?” Clary asked, a little disbelieving.

“Sure, why not! Plus, I’m pretty sure I can get that creepy werewolf bartender to give us all free drinks,” Isabelle suggested, looking toward Simon.

“That’s my girlfriend.” Simon’s tone was sarcastic. “Exploiting her femininity for free drinks from Downworlders.”

Isabelle shot him a mockingly-hurt face, her hand flying to her chest. “But, baby, that just means I’m a cheap date. Don’t you, like, find that attractive in a woman?”

Clary snorted before she could stop herself, breaking into a laugh that started deep in her stomach. Simon’s mouth was starting to turn up at the corners in a lopsided grin. He seemed to be speechless, his grin looking goofier by the second.

Jace chuckled at his sister’s wit, and said “well I, for one, would never turn down a free drink that Izzy offers. Unless it’s fruity. Or pink. Well, anyway, I vote we go.”

Clary’s laughing subsided and looked up at Jace in surprise. She knew that the clubbing scene wasn’t easy for Jace—it reminded the two of them a little too much of the night in Prague at the Bone Chandelier… Of Jace not quite himself, Sebastian as his puppet master. Since the final days of Edom, Clary and Jace had talked extensively about their feelings and moving on from the trauma that was Sebastian. Clary knew that Jace was okay now, that it was a long time ago. But as Clary was about to say something to him to make sure he was alright with going to the night club, he bent down to whisper in her ear.

“I’m okay, Clary. You don’t have to worry about me freaking or anything.” He stood back up to his full height and smiled down at her. His eyes were full of reassurance, and a bright smile flashed on his face. 

Unexpectedly, he grabbed Clary’s hand pulling her into his lean body. They were face-to-face, his other hand on her waist. She wasn’t expecting his sudden movements, and Clary stopped to take a breath to steady herself. Jace spun her out in one fluid motion as if they were ballroom dancing making her skirt flare out about her hips, revealing a bit too much leg. She laughed from the surprise and the sensation of spinning.

“Okay, okay! Let’s go dancing,” Clary agreed, smoothing down her skirt.

Isabelle beamed, excited that her idea had gone over so well with the others. “I’ll hail a cab.”

Once they were at the club, the flashing lights reflected off the glittering mass of bodies on the dance floor. Men and women were decked out in outrageous leather and glitter outfits. The room smelled of sweat, alcohol, and raw humanity. Isabelle obtained the promised free drinks for them all—a round of tequila shots—and forced them all to stay by the bar for one more round.

Afterwards, Clary was feeling slightly lighter, un-burdened and free. Isabelle dragged Simon off to the center of the floor where she prowled around him as they danced. Her black pony tail shot from side to side oddly resembling her electrum whip. Clary grabbed Jace’s hands and pulled him to a corner of the dance floor, bringing him toward her until their bodies were nearly touching. Without hesitation, Jace grabbed her waist and spun her around again like he had on the street. Then, he immediately pulled her back in, and Jace pressed her firmly against himself. Clary could feel the firm outline of his belt buckle, his tense abdominal muscles contracting from his rapid breathing, his chest muscles firm and warm under her hands.

As they danced, Clary could see Maia and Bat standing on a small stage at the front of the club and Isabelle and Simon glued together making out not far from where she stood. Light from the tequila and slightly giddy from the sensation of dancing, Clary found herself enjoying the movements and the feel of their bodies together. She hadn’t enjoyed herself this much in what seemed a long time.

She was extremely aware of Jace’s body pressed against hers. His hands trailed over her waist, her hips, slipping under the edges her skirt where it flared around her mid-thigh. While Jace touching her like this was not a new concept in the past few years, his touch still sent sparks flaring through her bloodstream. Everything about him drew her in, desired more of whatever he was giving her. She made no movement to stop his wandering hands.

Suddenly, Isabelle jerked away from Simon, her hand flying to the red pendent around her neck. Clary saw this happen, and a cold trickle of dread tingled around the back of her neck.

‘Demons,’ Clary thought, whirling around to identify where they could be coming from. She knew Jace saw Izzy, too, in the way his body tensed. He grabbed her hand and together, they made their way to Simon and Izzy. The mundanes on the dance floor seemed completely oblivious to the imminent threat, and Jace shoved nearby dancers none-too-kindly out of their way.

Clary’s only thoughts were for all of the mundanes whose lives were in danger. She was woefully unprepared for a fight, and she couldn’t help but wonder how they would manage to protect everyone with no time to prepare and so few weapons with them.


	6. Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clary, Jace, Simon, and Isabelle find themselves facing a group of demons in the middle of the Pandemonium club...

“You know?” Izzy asked, turning to Jace. Other Shadowhunters didn’t feel what she could sense with her pendant, but Isabelle and Jace had been fighting together so long. Clary often wondered if they could read each other’s minds.

Jace’s jaw tightened. “This can’t be good; let’s split up. Simon, Izzy, take the right. We’ll take the left.” Jace grabbed Clary’s hand and immediately started dragging her toward the edge of the dance floor.

Isabelle gulped, shouting out to him, “It didn’t feel like one demon, Jace. It felt like…” her voice trailed off lost in the noise of the club.

Without pausing to try and hear the rest of what Izzy had to say, Jace guided Clary through the dancing bodies, knocking people out of the way in a feverish determination. Clary glanced up at Bat and Maia still on their platform hoping with all her will that they were aware of what was happening. Jace pulled out a sensor he had stashed in his leather jacket. He probed every corner of the club they could get to. Clary paused to pull out the dagger and stele she had hidden in her boot. Quickly marking on her forearm, she drew the rune to make herself invisible to mundanes. She wasn’t worried about anyone seeing her randomly disappear in the crowd; most everyone was on some type of hallucinogenic drug, anyway.

She tugged on Jace’s arm, indicating she should mark him, too. He paused just long enough for her to do so, with an air of patient annoyance. He clearly wanted to continue searching but knew proper runes were an important part in fighting demons. While Jace was still, Clary hurriedly drew the runes for strength, agility, and stamina up his arm. He was fiddling with the sensor in his other hand. Before she could start on another rune, Jace drew away from her careful grip, clearly ready to start the fight.

Drawing runes on her arms while she walked closely behind Jace, she didn’t notice when he abruptly stopped walking. She ran face-first into him halfway through drawing the rune for stamina on her left arm. Startled, she followed his gaze. At the side entrance to the club, a dozen demons were pouring in through the door with shrieks and wails of delight as they tore into mundane flesh, their sounds of destruction louder than the music still pouring from the speakers. Without a second’s hesitation, her and Jace sprinted together through the mass of bodies. As they ran, Jace pushed people aside, pulling out a seraph knife from inside his jacket.

“Zophiel!” Jace cried, and knowing that Clary had only her dagger, immediately pulled a second one from his pocket and handed it to her like a marathon runner would pass a baton.

She quickly tucked her stele into her bra, hoping it would stay put. She grabbed the seraph knife from Jace and named hers “Adriel!”

They were nearly upon the horde when Clary heard a shriek come from one of the nearest demons. Isabelle’s whip had sliced through its neck, decapitating the creature. Jace, noticing this too, sprinted ahead of Clary and joined the fray. His seraph blade flashed as he sliced through the demons to aid Izzy in the onslaught of the horde.

Clary whirled around, looking for Simon. She knew that she would battle best with Simon at her side, with her parabatai to have her back. She located him quickly. He was battling an ant-like demon the size of a large dog. Clary jumped into the fray, slashing pointedly with her seraph blade at the demon’s abdomen. Simon delivered a crippling blow, pushing his blade through the creature’s chest. With a shriek, the demon started to collapse in on itself. Without pausing to see if it fully disappeared, Clary lunged at the next demon using her dagger in her left hand to slice a deep cut into its chest, and blood spilled in fountains from the creature’s chest. With a shriek, it disappeared.

Before Clary could think about heading back into the mess of fighting bodies, she felt a stinging sensation. A large gash tore through her back. With a scream of rage she whirled around, seeing the first demon she fought was still striking out at anything it could with a sharpened front leg. Its pinchers snapped ominously before her, trying to tear away her flesh. Before she could retaliate, Simon was suddenly there, stabbing the creature through its back, directly through its heart.

“Clary! Are you okay?” his voice sounded strained, whether from fighting or seeing blood drip from Clary’s wound and down her legs, she was unsure.

“I’ll be fine, go help the others!” she gasped, as the pain from the gash started to set in. She knew her wound would need attention, but there was no time right now. She felt as the blood streamed down her legs, reaching her boots and soaking her stockings.

There was still a handful of demons left, Izzy fighting three at once. Simon had now joined in close combat with another. Most of the people in the club had ran away from the demons, and Clary had a strange, stray thought. ‘What are the mundanes seeing right now?’ Did they see a pack of dogs? Or a group of robbers with guns? She found the disparity in their drastically different realities rather humorous and a grin spread across her face.

In the middle of her wonder, she saw Maia hurtling toward them half changed with her teeth bared. “Jace, go help Clary!” Maia growled as she descended on one of the demons Isabelle was fighting. “Bat’s on his way, we’ve got this covered!”

Clary didn't realize how light-headed she had become until she noticed her vision had started to tunnel while looking at Maia. Suddenly, Jace was behind her, and he caught her as she started to fall. His stele was already drawing an iratze on her exposed chest. Clary could feel the warmth of the rune spreading to her wound but still felt faint. She realized with a jolt of surprise that she must have been infected with demon poison.

“Jace,” she exhaled, reaching to grasp his upper arm. “I have to get to the Institute. Poison.”

She saw his jaw clench, and with inhuman speed, he picked her up in his arms. “Izzy,” he yelled over their fighting. “Izzy, it’s Clary. We have to go,” and she could hear his panic starting to rise in his voice.

With a final crack of her whip, Isabelle turned to face Jace, blood dripping from her deadly-gleaming whip into a pool on the ground. “Go, Jace! Now!” Isabelle yelled, not without a small hint of annoyance. “We'll finish up here and meet you there.”

“We have no way to get there… in time,” Jace sounded helpless, panicked. Clary’s face turned a lighter shade of gray. “We don’t have a car.”

“I do.” A deep voice sounded from behind them. Looking around, Clary saw the form of Bat looming over her with his keys already out of his pocket. He thrusted them toward Jace. He was half-turned, too, with his claws and fangs protruding from an otherwise attractive form. In her slightly-dazed state, Clary found Bat rather terrifying. She buried her head in the crook of Jace’s neck like a child.

She felt Jace nod with a firm set to his jaw. He took the keys from Bat with his free hand. “I owe you.”

“Don’t mention it. Look for the black truck outside. Now go!” Bat ordered as he finished changing. Clary saw him launch onto the nearest demon, his fangs sinking into the creature’s leg.

Jace carried Clary as if she weighed no more than a child and sprinted toward the exit. He moved at that inhuman speed only he could manage. Clary had a start of panic as she felt her consciousness start to slip. The last thing she remembered was Jace gently laying her in the back seat of Bat’s truck, the pain in her back flaring up in protest. She passed out.


	7. Demon Flesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clary's injury from the battle in Pandemonium is more serious than she realized. Magnus and Alec must come help heal her injury while Jace struggles seeing Clary almost die.

Clary woke with a sharp intake of breath, her eyes lazily opening as if she was dazed. Jace was sitting next to her, and his head snapped up out of his hands. Jace had been in this room many times with her since they first met, and this time had to have been the most unpleasant. His shoulders carried all his stress, and he could feel himself tensing further as the look of mingled pain and confusion crossed Clary’s face. Jace saw her try to sit up, probably to comfort him, but she took another sharp intake of breath as more pain hit her.

“Clary!” Jace’s head snapped up from his hands. “Clary don’t move. Clary, Clary, Clary,” his voice was pleading as his hand reached to cup her cheek, repeating her name as if to reassure himself she was alright.

“Jace,” Clary croaked, her voice surprisingly rough. “What’s wrong? Where’s Magnus?” Jace couldn’t help the look of sadness he felt creeping into the corners of his mouth. Clary repeated, “where’s Magnus, Jace?”

But Jace was spared answering as Magnus—thankfully—arrived in his flannel pajamas, green alien slippers padding lightly against the stone infirmary floor. He flung his jacket haphazardly on a bed as he ran to meet Jace at Clary’s bedside. Alec ran into the room after him, a parka closed crookedly across his matching set of flannel pajamas. In the back of his mind, Jace made a mental note to tease Alec about this once Clary was better.

“What happened?” Magnus barked as he started evaluating Clary with his careful, cat eyes. 

“She has an injury… on her back,” Jace breathed, not wanting to alarm Clary.

“Guys, seriously, it’s just a scratch, definitely with some poison. Not a big deal,” Clary dismissed their intense concern. Jace noticed her otherwise glowing skin had turned the ashy pallor of a vampire. Jace looked pleadingly at Magnus, knowing that the warlock had noticed how drained she was, too. 

Magnus took a deep breath. “Here, help me turn her over.”

As Magnus and Jace started to roll Clary, she gave a sharp gasp and her eyes rolled back into her head from the pain. Jace’s panic increased as he continued to help Magnus gently turn her over so the warlock could evaluate her gash.

Looking down, Magnus’s eyes constricted trying to understand what he was dealing with. Jace looked down, too. What Clary had been thinking was just some demon poison and a simple gash down her back was really something else entirely. While it was true that the demon that attacked Clary had torn the skin of her back to shreds, it had also almost implanted part of itself into the gash. Stretching the center of the gash was a black and bleak, demon-looking flesh that moved inside the wound like a running, swirling fluid. The wound continued to ooze blood and puss, never healing. The black center pulsed with its own heartbeat. The sight was revolting, and Jace heard Alec’s sharp intake of breath. None of them had seen anything like this before.

Magnus didn’t recoil from the sight of Clary’s wound as Alec had. His eyes were calculating, and he reached out a hesitant hand as if to touch the black substance invading Clary’s body. Jace grabbed his wrist, stopping the warlock.

“Don’t. What if it hurts her more?”

“Well, Shadowhunter,” Magnus spit the word at Jace and it had felt like a slap to the face. “There’s no way to know for sure until I try, now is there?” Magnus’ tone sharpened further. It put Jace in his place for the moment, reminding him that Magnus was there to help.

Jace released the warlock from his vice grip, clasping his hands firmly in front of him. His face had shut down, showing no emotion. 

“Just make her better,” was all he said.

Alec came up behind Jace and laid a hand on his parabatai’s shoulder. “Magnus will heal her, Jace. It will be alright.” Jace relied on Alec’s strength, knowing that he did not have enough of his own to make it through this evening.

Magnus leaned his face close to the black tissue spanning the length of Clary’s back. As he observed his fingertips emanated blue sparks, and he lightly touched the top edge of the gash, on her right shoulder. Involuntarily, Clary’s body jerked away from the heat of Magnus’s spell. She awoke with a start, gasping from the pain.

“Stop!” Clary’s voice was pleading, and she tried to squirm away from Magnus.

“What did you do?” Jace demanded whirling to face Magnus. He was unable to tolerate seeing Clary so vulnerable and in distress. The past few years as a Shadowhunter, Clary had really come into her own. She had grown tough, taking on her new life of pain and hardship with a blazing strength and passion. His Clary. She was brilliant and kept him strong. Seeing her hunched body, dying tore Jace’s insides to shreds.

“I have to try something,” Magnus hissed, his hand restraining Clary by her shoulder as she continued to try and jerk away from his touch. “Jace, I need you to hold her down!”

Jace shot Magnus a deadly look but did not say anything; he knew that Magnus was the only person who could save her. He did as the warlock told him, firmly grasping her shoulders as Magnus’s hands shot blue and purple sparks across Clary’s shredded back.

She screamed. She screamed like a dying demon, like all the life was being sucked out of her in those few moments. Her shrill wails filled the room with a palpable pain. Alec’s face whitened. Jace felt his insides knot. Magnus increased the flow of sparks shooting from his fingertips with a determined look in his eyes.

Just as Jace was going to stop Magnus, he saw with mingled horror and relief that the black and swirling tissue was starting to evaporate—a thick, black steam rose from her cut. The image was bizarre. The tissue was rising from Clary’s back, a black wall of black, opaque material. Jace saw this all as if in slow motion; it seemed to take hours for the wound to finally start showing Clary’s very human tissue. Finally disappearing with a soft hiss, it had all evaporated from her cut. I left behind an open wound with purpling edges. Oddly, the wound stopped bleeding. It looked as if it had been cauterized by the demon-steam. Magnus sat down with a loud exhale. Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead.

“Whatever that was, it had almost attached itself inside her heart. It was circulating through her body--through her veins. A sort of poison, but not. My best guess is that it was a sentient tissue of the demon who clawed her. She won’t heal normally from this injury; it has poisoned the skin around her gash, see there?” Magnus pointed to the dark purple skin around the open wound. “I don’t know how to heal that tissue...”

“I’m going to send a message to the brothers,” Alec said as he backed away slowly. “Maybe they’ve seen something like this before. Maybe they could help heal the rest of her.”

“Thank you, Alexander,” Magnus said as he ran a hand over his face in exhaustion.

Jace held Clary's hand, relieved that her life was no longer in immediate danger. He sighed as he stroked back her hair, still sweaty from the battle, blood and ichor stained the ends. She had passed out from the pain of the demon tissue being irradiated from her system.

“Magnus, do you have your phone? I need to call Jocelyn and Luke, let them know what happened,” Jace straightened up, looking toward Magnus expectantly.

The warlock nodded in the direction of his coat, still laying on the infirmary bed a dozen feet away. “Inside pocket,” Magnus exhaled, clearly exhausted.

Jace took a deep breath to steady himself, preparing for the inevitable hysterics from Jocelyn. He reached into the coat pocket and dialed.

“Jocelyn, this is Jace. Clary’s been injured.” He paused as he heard Jocelyn’s sharp intake of breath. Taking advantage of her shock, he instructed her to head to the Institute as fast as she could.


	8. Nat Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon's POV - After the demon attack in the Pandemonium club, Simon discovers something alarming. Simon and Isabelle's only hope in finding help is Clary, who doesn't seem to be doing so well...

Simon dispatched the remaining demon from the horde, driving his last seraph blade up under its ribs. He watched as it disappeared. His shirt had been ripped to tatters from a demon who had taken him by surprise. The claws that had scratched at him made his favorite button-down shirt almost obsolete. Regretfully, he looked down at the tattered remains of his shirt with a pang of sadness. He wished he had worn a leather jacket for more protection like Jace had. He peeled off the shirt remains, and with a jerk, he noticed a dark line had appeared on his right collarbone. The black lines crisscrossing in an intricate pattern. The only other permanent rune he had on his chest was his _parabatai_ rune, but that was over his left collarbone, not his right.

Panic started to bloom deep in his chest. His first thoughts were of demonic possession, like what Jace had been through when Lilith wanted to resurrect Sebastian. The Rune stood out stark against his skin, a deep black that seemed darker than his other Runes. But the curves and lilt to the rune didn’t look demonic in origin. And neither did the Rune resemble anything from the Gray book. With a jolt of sudden realization, Simon couldn’t help but think of how much this mark resembled the mark of Cain. It seemed just as ancient, just as powerful, just as mysterious. The panic in his chest rose to a crescendo.

“Whoa, there Simon, no need to show off your fancy Shadowhunter bod,” Maia teased, now fully morphed back into her usual herself. Her tone was light, but the concern in her voice was real.

Looking up in surprise, he noticed she had a few gashes, but nothing seemed too serious. Bat came up behind Maia, placing a hand over her shoulder. He eyed her up and down to make sure she was alright. Simon realized with a jolt of guilt that he hadn’t even thought of Isabelle, sought out where she was, because he was so concerned for himself. Maia gestured for Isabelle to join them, and she hurried toward Simon, curling her whip up as she ran.

“Baby, what happened to your shirt? And, wait… Did Clary mark you?” she asked in puzzlement, her fingers trailing the dark rune on his collar bone. “I didn’t think she had time to mark anyone before the demons attacked.”

“No, Clary didn’t mark me. I’m not—well I’m not sure what it is.” Simon’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “I suddenly feel like I could kill 10,000 more demons, though.” And he truly did. Aside from the panic he felt, Simon suddenly felt full of Shadowhunter vengeance (if that could be considered a real thing).

“Hmm… Are you sure Clary didn’t have a chance to try out one of her new-fangled strengthening runes or something? Although… you know, it kind of looks like the Mark of Cain, in a weird way,” Izzy mused, dropping her hand from the mark while her brow furrowed.

“I thought so, too. Seems a bit—ancient.” But Simon didn’t like the thought of bearing anything like that mark ever again. An eternal curse would really throw a wrench in his current life aspirations. Like, for example, not being eternally cursed for the rest of his life.

“Well, it doesn’t hurt you, right? It doesn't make you feel all… demonic or something?” Isabelle’s eyes were questioning, searching his body for wounds or other affects from the mark. Simon could tell she was more concerned than she let on.

“No, I mean, like I said. I feel great! I feel like I rolled a nat 20 in real life. No joke!” he enthused while bouncing on the balls of his feet. And when Isabelle’s eyes became more concerned and her mouth formed the words ‘nat 20’ in confusion, Simon muttered, “it’s just a D&D thing. But, it’s a good thing, though.”

“Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out, then,” Isabelle said not without a touch of concern. “Common, let’s get going back to the Institute to see how Clary’s doing.”

“Wait, Izzy, I need to find a shirt. I’m kinda half-naked here.” Simon was afraid that he would be paraded around all of Manhattan shirtless for the world to see. And not that Simon was ashamed of his new Shadowhunter body. He had never been more comfortable in his own skin since becoming Nephilim. But he also was not too fond of the idea of riding the subway in his blood-splattered jeans and rune-marked skin. At the least, he would startle the mundies.

Isabelle shrugged. “I don’t see anything wrong with that. You’re super sexy-looking, all shirtless and sweaty.” She dragged her finger down the center of his chest, and her hand flattened out against his abs. She paused her teasing after seeing Simon’s scowl. “Fine. Here. I’ll glamour you and give you a warming rune.” She pulled her stele from under her skirt (a thigh sheath, Simon hopefully assumed), and drew two runes side by side on his right forearm. A fuzzy, warm feeling spread through his limbs as the warming rune took effect.

Isabelle turned to Mia and Bat. “Need help with some recon and cleaning up?” All of the club goers had rushed out of the club when the demons attacked. With the lights still flashing across the empty dance floor, Simon couldn’t help but wonder when the police were going to show up. The club had a strange eerie feeling to it now.

Bat answered while checking his phone. “No, but thanks though. We’ll get things covered here and run interference when the Mundie police show up.”

With a nod, Simon and Izzy headed for the main entrance, and they hailed a cab back to the Institute. The cabbie looked a little confused as to why Isabelle held the door open for so long before she slid in. And why she seemed to be talking to herself in the back of the cab. And even more so as Isabelle sauntered up the crumbling path to a dilapidated church, looking as if she were holding someone’s hand and animatedly conversing with herself.

Simon stripped his glamour as soon as he stepped through the front door.

“Izzy, you know teasing poor cabbies like that isn’t my cup of tea,” Simon protested as Isabelle studiously ignored him. Lightly teasing the mundies like that was something Simon was never quite on board with, as he remembered his own days before his knowledge of the Shadow world.

They hurried up to the Infirmary once they found Simon a new shirt. He had seen the gash on Clary’s back before Jace whisked her away, and he didn’t think it was that bad. And besides, he hadn’t sensed anything terribly wrong through their _parabatai_ connection, and so Simon and Izzy were under the impression it was nothing a good iratze and some warlock magic couldn’t heal.

They both stopped in shock at the scene that revealed itself before them.

Clary lay on her stomach in the bed furthest from the doors. Jace sat next to her while holding her limp hand. Magnus was on her other side looking exhausted talking with Jocelyn, Luke, and Maryse. Alec was conferring with three Silent Brothers, looking rather subdued in his pajamas.

Simon recovered before Isabelle, and he tugged lightly on her hand as he advanced in the room. Jocelyn looked up as they entered; she reached out for Simon, embracing him. It had been so long since Jocelyn had held him like that, like he was just as much her son as Clary was her daughter. Isabelle ran over to Alec, and he could hear her interrogating the Silent Brothers and demanding answers in a panic.

“What happened? Why isn’t she conscious? I didn’t know anything was wrong!” Simon turned to Jace as he stared in disbelief at Clary lying on the Infirmary bed. It felt so wrong that he couldn’t sense anything through his _parabatai_ connection.

“The demon that attacked her… well, it embedded a part of itself into her wound. The demon tissue was making its way to her heart. Magnus was barely able to extract it, but—” Jace was cut off by Isabelle’s screech.

“I’M SORRY, BUT WHAT?” Isabelle’s cry drowned out everyone else’s conversations. “WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN, SHE MAY NEVER FULLY HEAL?”

Simon immediately felt a pang of sympathy for the Silent Brother Isabelle was directing her screams toward. Isabelle was fiercely loyal, and Clary had become more than her first-best-girl friend… Simon knew Isabelle thought of the two of them as sisters. He also knew Clary returned the feeling. Without hesitation, Simon strode over to Izzy and wrapped his arm around her waist. He could feel the tension in her body, and she looked like a coiled snake waiting to strike.

“She’ll get better, Izz. It will all work out. I promise.” Simon soothed his girlfriend, now stroking back hair that had fallen in her face.

Her anger whipped to Simon; the full brunt of her raw emotions was now directed straight to his face. “How can you be so sure? Look at her! For Christ’s sake, she’s your _parabatai_ and she looks half…” but Isabelle couldn’t bring herself to say the next word. Simon knew what was about to come out of her mouth. 

_Dead._

Jace approached Simon and Isabelle. His hands were shoved in his pockets, his posture indicating how deflated and exhausted he must have been. Simon took his other hand and laid it gently on Jace’s shoulder. If there was anything the two of them understood best about each other, it was their shared desire for Clary’s well-being. Their eyes met and Simon knew that even though all he himself wanted was to stay by his best friend’s side, Jace needed his own time with Clary. And he respected that. If Isabelle was the one laying in the infirmary bed, all he would want was to be alone with her.

“Why don’t you all go get some sleep. She’s going to be out well until morning, and there’s no point in you waiting around here.” His words were directed at Isabelle, but his eyes never left Simon’s. Simon knew that all Jace wanted was for everyone to leave so he could finally be alone with Clary, to process his own conflicting emotions about the evening they had all just shared.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right Jace,” Simon said, releasing his hand on Jace’s shoulder. “Common, Izz, let’s get you in a hot shower to relax.”


	9. The Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clary laments over having to heal in the Infirmary. Jace and Clary start researching Simon's strange Rune.

Clary wished she could heal faster. It seemed that despite her Shadowhunter blood, this type of injury healed just as slowly as a mundane injury. Since that night in Pandemonium, she had strict orders from the Silent Brothers that she should not leave the infirmary. At most, she could be escorted to the library, but she had to be chaperoned in case anything happened to her while she was ‘exerting so much physical energy.’

With a sigh, she swung her legs over the bed and crossed the room to look at herself in the floor-length mirror. Turning, she could see the harsh, bruising skin on her right shoulder where the demon gash started; it was still tender to the touch. Clary was surprised to find out about the black, demon flesh when she had woken up the next day. It explained all the pain she had felt upon waking, but she still couldn’t seem to wrap her head around the concept of it.

Since her rest orders, Clary had spent most of her time sleeping. She was surprised by how little energy she seemed to have, but she had been persistent in telling Jace that he didn’t need to spend all his time with her in the Infirmary. She was only going to sleep all day, anyway. Besides, he was coming by every day for breakfast and dinner, and Simon was coming by for lunches, so Clary felt like she had plenty of company.

Today she felt marginally better, and she had hopes of making it to the library to have a cup of tea and study up on runes. She desperately wanted to find an answer to Simon’s new mystery rune. After Jace and Magnus had explained the odd injury to Clary, Simon had stopped by to tell her about how this new mark had appeared on his collar bone. Without preamble, he had lifted his shirt to show Clary the rune. Clary lifted a hand to block her line of sight and averted her gaze at the same time.

“Simon, ugh, common! I get it, you have a ‘lean and rocking’ bod now that you’re a Shadowhunter. I don’t need to see it again,” Clary complained.

“Well, yeah, obviously my muscles are amazing. But, that’s not what I want you to see. Look,” Simon insisted. 

Clary lifted her gaze a fraction, and it immediately went to the foreign Rune. She lifted up a hand to touch it, unable to stop herself. This kind of mark had been on her _parabatai_ once before. Her brow furrowed as she traced the lines of the rune, her shame at his naked torso evaporating.

“What is it?” Clary asked. Her mind was racing, trying to compare this rune to all the others she knew from the Gray Book in vain, to all the new runes she had created in the past four years. Nothing rang a bell which instilled a fair amount of fear deep in her gut. Something about the rune seemed incomplete to her.

“We were hoping you could tell us,” Isabelle chimed in. “And you can stop touching my boyfriend now,” she added with a mocking and playful undertone in her voice.

Clary dropped her hand, still musing over every rune she knew. Alongside the fear, worry had started to creep into her mind. She found herself unable to stop thinking that this could be some kind of odd, demonic rune—like what Jace had to endure. But that wasn’t quite right either, as it emitted the same sort of ancient power the Mark of Cain had. She hadn’t felt anything different in their _parabati_ connection, but the mark was still worrisome, nonetheless.

“It’s not anything demonic in origin,” Simon reassured her, reading her face. “We asked Magnus and the Silent Brothers. But no one seems to know what it is or where it came from. But the weird thing is… I think it interferes with our connection. I couldn't feel your pain last night… I didn’t know how badly you had been hurt.”

And with those words, Clary’s sense of mystery piqued. How could their connection be dampened from the mark? How could she not know what this rune meant or where it could have come from? Runes were her ‘superpower,’ after all. Looking at the rune sparked a twinge of apprehension in Clary’s mind; any rune that was foreign to her raised an instant red flag.

Later that night, Clary had tried drawing that rune on a piece of paper with her stele. The rune disappeared immediately as she drew it. No amount of pressure or speed caused the rune to leave any lasting marks on anything. In a moment of fevered desperation, she even tried to draw the mark on her upper thigh, but it disappeared as fast as it had on the paper.

With that memory fresh in her mind, she had a renewed drive to figure out Simon’s rune. Clary headed to the Infirmary bathroom to wash away the grogginess of sleep. Jace was stopping by before going off for his daily training exercises with Alec, and she knew that if she asked him to accompany her to the library today, he would drop everything to be with her. She also knew that he was more worried for her than he should be. But she had insisted that he needed to continue with his daily life because she was going to heal regardless of if Jace spent every minute of every day with her.

With a sigh, she remembered that she wasn’t allowed to take any real showers or baths since the water and soap still stung her injury. All she craved was a warm shower, with her favorite lemon soap. Instead, she gave herself a short sponge bath with soap that smelled pleasantly of citrus and sage. She washed her hair in the sink, allowing the tangled mess of curls to air dry around her face. Clary did notice that in the past few days, she had lost some weight, and even more of her usually healthy pallor.

She dressed in a soft cotton maxi dress from her stash of clothes she kept in the Institute. The Infirmary and overnights at the Institute were not an uncommon occurrence for Clary, so she had a drawer full of clothes in Jace’s room. It felt oddly intimate, knowing that Jace was so willing to share his uber-clean personal space with her. It didn’t feel like it should be so intimate after all this time but getting Jace to open up these past few years was still hard. Clary sensed there were parts of himself that he still wished to keep to himself, which she respected.

With a soft click, the door to the Infirmary swung in. Jace was standing in the entry with his hands in his pockets. Clary smiled, a blush creeping across her face. Seeing Jace had been the only bright spot since her quarantine to the Institute.

He crossed the room in hurried strides, reaching out to hold her hands. He seemed to still be too afraid to embrace her, least he hurt her. Clary avoided his hands and instead reached around his torso to hug him, feeling the hardened lines of his back muscles. She felt a slight tearing sensation around the edges of her injury which gave a sharp pang of pain, but she ignored it. Touching Jace was worth any set back in healing her injury. She needed to feel him, to be with him.

Jace firmly but gently held Clary’s shoulders as he pushed her away from the one-sided embrace. He bent his head down instead, bringing his lips softly to hers. It was just a brush of lips, but still Clary’s heartbeat increased its rhythm. It had been _days_ since their last real embrace. Even soft and gentle touches were starting to cause her some level of excitement.

“Jace, I’m not a porcelain doll,” Clary said as she averted her eyes, wishing she could have more from him than hand holding and a soft brush of lips.

“No, you’re not,” Jace said delicately, brushing a lock of damp hair behind her ear. “But you are fallible, and I need you to get better. For me.”

In response, Clary nodded her head. She knew he was right, but she had no desire to actually believe his words. “Well, I was hoping today you could accompany me to the library,” Clary started slowly, knowing that Jace might insist on another day spent in the Infirmary. “I really am feeling much better, and I think a change of scenery might do me good,” Clary continued in a rush, hoping he would believe her.

She looked up to see Jace contemplating her request, his hands delicately sliding down her arms to hold her hands. After a moment, his brow furrowed a bit, and he nodded.

“All right. Let me give Alec a call. I’ll cancel our plans.” Jace released her hands and took out his phone, dialing Alec’s number.

Clary felt relief that she didn’t have to spend another day in the Infirmary and excitement because she got to spend her day with Jace. She hurried over to her bed where she grabbed a jacket, her stele, and a few drawing supplies—just in case. Turning around, she saw Jace with his hands in his pockets again.

“Are you ready?” he asked, and he offered to take her sketchbook and pencils.

Clary nodded excitedly, a slow smile working its way across her face.

Once in the library, Clary carefully settled herself into a high-backed leather armchair by the fireplace, being sure to situate herself so she wasn’t leaning against her injury. There was a rather large stack of books on the table beside her. Clary had instructed Jace to gather every book he could find about obscure runes and books on rune theology (since he wouldn’t let her climb the ladders to reach them). Simon’s mysterious mark was a puzzle to her. When she looked at it, she couldn’t quite recognize it, but it was at the same time overwhelmingly familiar to her. Clary guessed when she first saw his mark that it was incomplete, that it needed a partner rune to be activated. They just needed to figure out what.

Digging into _Runes: A History_ , Clary felt grateful for the studying to distract her from the constant throb of pain that came from her back. She flipped through the pages of the thick textbook, looking for the section on non-Gray Book runes (which was a disappointingly small section).

Jace relaxed in the armchair beside her, a copy of _Shadowhunter Plants and Herbal Maladies_ perched on his knees. He had made Clary a hot cup of tea, which sat between them emanating a lovely floral smell.

After a couple hours and a few more cups of tea, Clary sighed in exasperation. She hadn’t found a single clue, a single reference to any sort of mark that resembled Simon’s. She snapped her fifth book shut, and Jace looked up from his novel in surprise.

“Still nothing?” He asked, already knowing her answer based on her furrowed brow and tense shoulders.

“I just don’t get it! Even marks like the Mark of Cain and older, lesser known angelic runes are mentioned, but nothing that resembles his mark… Nothing pointing toward a partner rune. _Why_ can’t I figure it out?” Clary set the book down on the side table and gingerly got to her feet, being careful not to agitate her injury further. She slowly paced in front of the fireplace, trying to let out some of her frustration.

“Maybe you’re not supposed to figure it out,” Jace suggested. “Maybe the reason it appeared on Simon is because he’s the only one who can understand it.”

Clary glowered over at Jace. “But the Clave employs me to be the Rune expert, not him. I should be able to do my job, to riddle out the meaning… I can create new runes out of thin air, but I can’t unravel this?” She felt defeated and rather worthless.

Jace stood, gently grabbing Clary’s wrist to stop her pacing. “You’ll find an answer. You always do.” He said the words so simply, without any doubt, and she knew he believed in her unconditionally.

She sighed, releasing the last of her frustration and smiled up at Jace in appreciation. “Thanks. I just feel so useless, being injured and not able to anything… What’ve you been researching all day?”

“Ways that we might be able to heal you faster. I’m sure there is a record of an injury like yours somewhere in this library… the problem is knowing where to look,” Jace sighed and dropped his hand from her wrist, instead winding it through his hair to push it off his forehead.

“Why don’t we switch? I’ll look over your books for a solution to my injury, and you can comb through these,” she suggested with a flick of her wrist to indicate the stack of books Clary had no luck with.

“Sure, why not?” Jace shrugged, leaning over the side table to grab the first book off Clary’s pile. She did the same, taking Jace’s first book. She glanced down and saw it was the first title Jace had been reading: _Shadowhunter Plants and Herbal Maladies_. With a sigh, Clary started reading.


End file.
